


Snapshots of Time XII

by hummerhouse



Series: Snapshots of Time [12]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Language, Multi, Turtlecest, adult concepts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:44:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.<br/>Word Count: 2,214 OT4 TCest Drabble sets<br/>Rated: R<br/>Momentary glimpses of life, captured and placed into an album.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snapshots of Time XII

** Necessary **

            “Oh Fuck!  DONNY!”

            The shout had Donatello scrambling out of his lab to gape open mouthed towards the top of the stairs.  Judging by the echo, Raphael was in the bathroom.

            Head swimming with all sorts of dire images of his brother lying bleeding amongst broken glass, or impaled on a mysteriously exploding pipe, Don took the stairs three at a time.

            Breathless, he flung open the bathroom door and was immediately confronted by an icy glare from a naked, dripping wet Raph.

            Trails of soap bubbles slid down his heaving plastron, across toned thighs, and puddled on the bath rug under Raph’s feet.  He made no attempt to grab a towel, instead intent upon trying to pierce holes through Don’s head with his burning eyes.

            “What the shell?” Don asked, stepping into the room.

            “The goddamn hot water cut off halfway through my shower, that’s what,” Raph said furiously.

            “Why are you pissed at me?” Don asked, answering Raph’s pique with his own indignation.

            “You’re the one that’s supposed ta keep the water heater working,” Raph snapped.

            “By whose decree?  I’d like to know when this secret ballot took place electing me to be Mr. Fix-It,” Don said, walking past Raph to pass a hand under the still running water.  It was completely cold and Don quickly shut it off.

            “Ya’ appointed yourself, genius,” Raph said, slightly mollified when he saw Don become actively engaged in the problem.  “If I was human, my dick would’ve shriveled up and fallen off.”

            The reference made Don glance at Raph’s lower plastron before his eyes climbed up to his brother’s face.  “Good thing you aren’t human then.”

            “You’re fucking hilarious,” Raph said.  “I’m covered in soap, what the hell do I do about it?”

            “Did the cold water freeze your common sense?” Don asked, picking up a bucket from next to the sink.  Turning on the tap in the sink, he checked that it was warm and began filling the bucket.  “Get back in the tub; I’ll rinse you off with this.”

            Raph dutifully climbed back into the tub, frowning at his brother as he did so.  “That’s not cold too?”

            “Nope,” Don said as he cut off the water and walked over to where Raph stood.  “I thought it would be prudent to use separate water heaters for the shower and sink, and another for the kitchen.  Considering the fact that I need the spare parts from about fourteen different heaters just to piece together one working heater, it seemed like a smart plan.”

            Raph closed his eyes as Don poured the warm water over his head, using his hands to swipe at the soap that was trying to dry on his body.  When Don went back for a refill, Raph shook his head to get the water out of his eyes so he could watch his brother.

            “I don’t even know where the damn water heaters are,” Raph confessed.

            So many of the things Don did for them were practically unnoticeable, so much so that Raph tended to take them for granted.  He wondered if the rest of the family felt the same way about the miracles Don performed to give them all the comforts of a normal human home.

            Don returned and slowly tipped the bucket over Raph’s broad shoulders, watching as the water carried away the soap his brother had used to clean his carapace.

            “You’re going to find out where at least one of them is,” Don told him.  “We may have to pull it out before we go to the junkyard to get the parts to fix it with.”

            “’We’?” Raph asked.  “Yeah, I know what that means.  Ya’ want me ta be your muscle and carry that heavy shit back home for ya’.”

            “Considering the fact that you nearly gave me heart failure with your bellowing, it’s the least you can do,” Don said as he made his third trip to the sink.

            “I ‘spose,” Raph agreed, rather enjoying the feeling of Don sprinkling warm water over his body.

            “I’ll tell you what,” Don said as he rinsed Raph’s chest, watching the water’s downward path avidly.  “Once we’re done, I’ll get in the shower with you and help you get cleaned up again.”

            “You’re on, Donny-boy,” Raph said with a lusty grin.

 

** Peeping Tom **

            The temperature outside was perfect, the quarter moon providing just enough but not too much light.  It was one of those nights where Mikey felt like he could run for hours as long as nothing happened that would force him to stop.

            “Sssss, Mikey.”

            Don’s low hiss took that hope away and Mikey applied the brakes, skidding to slow down and pivoting to follow his brother, going into silent mode because he saw that Don had.

            Coming alongside Don, Mikey whispered, “What did you see?”

            “The moonlight reflected off of something,” Don replied in an equally low voice.  “It was quick but it moved in an arc.”

            Don didn’t need to tell him much more.  They were too high up for the light to have come from an automobile and the arcing pattern meant whatever Don had seen wasn’t stationary.  In Mikey’s experience, that sort of flash usually came from a blade being drawn.  Fighting the Foot was going to mess up his perfect night.

            Since he wasn’t the one who saw the reflection, Mikey followed Don’s lead.  The pair hurdled across the space between two buildings and then Don slowed from a run to a jog, his body low so as not to be sky lined.  Mikey emulated his actions purely from instinct.

            The older turtle was walking on his toes by the time they reached the edge of the roof.  Cautiously peering down, they both saw someone in dark clothes squatting atop the building that was two stories below them.

            Mikey’s sigh of relief was barely audible but Don heard it and understood, nodding his head in agreement.  Probably not the Foot.

            Silently they watched as what they could now tell was a man lifted a camera fitted with a telephoto lens and scanned the windows of the apartment complex across from him.  When the lens stopped moving, both Don and Mikey looked over to see what held his interest.

            A dim light shone through open curtains and a second later another light came on.  A young woman walked past their line of sight, her hands moving to divest herself of her clothing.

            “He’s a peeping tom,” Mikey whispered.

            “He’s not just peeping, he’s taking pictures,” Don whispered back, disgust dripping from his voice.

            “Maybe he’s a private detective?” Mikey guessed.

            Don shook his head.  “If a man was in there with her, I’d agree.  She’s alone and this high up she probably has an expectation of privacy.”

            Mikey grinned mischievously.  “He’s practically underneath us.  Why don’t we do something disgusting to him and teach him a lesson.”

            “You want to spit on the peeping tom?” Don asked, rolling his eyes.

            “Nah, lets pee on him,” Mikey suggested with a low chuckle.

            “No way Michelangelo.  I am not going to urinate on someone.  At this height and distance, you won’t hit him anyway,” Don said firmly.

            “Okay, what then,” Mikey said.  “Break his camera?”

            “I suppose so,” Don said, sounding a little disappointed.  “Doesn’t seem like much of a lesson though.”

            “Oh, oh, I know Donny,” Mikey said excitedly, his blue eyes gleaming.

            He leaned close to his brother and began to whisper.  As he laid out his plan, Don’s mouth stretched into a wide smile.

            Fifteen minutes later the brothers leaned over the edge of the building again, only this time they were watching the street.  Three police cars had just come to a screeching halt, all three of their headlights pointing directly at Mikey and Don’s masterpiece.

            Tied buck naked to a street lamp, the peeping tom’s eyes were wide as he surveyed the crowd that had begun to form.  Around his neck was his camera, the evidence of what he’d been up to still intact.

            Camera phones were flashing all around him as the police jumped from their cars and ran over to the man.  Facing forward, with his ankles bound so that he couldn’t lift his legs to cover himself, the man and his junk was about to go viral.

            Stepping back, Don and Mikey broke into laughter, their palms connecting in a high three.

            “Good one, Mikey,” Don praised.  “Where did you ever come up with that idea?”

            Mikey coughed slightly before admitting, “Well, I sorta got it from a cartoon.”

 

** Scavenge **

            “Have I said how much I hate it when he gets all secretive?” Raph complained, trudging along behind Mikey.

            “Yep, about fourteen times already,” the youngest answered, skipping over a chunk of broken asphalt, his eyes on Leo who was directly in front of him.

            “Leo,” Raph called out.  “We’ve been dragging our asses through this wasteland for ten minutes.  Make him tell ya’ where we’re going.”

            “ _Make_ him tell me?” Leo responded, looking over his shoulder.  “You’re kidding right?  Don said it’s a surprise and that means he’ll spring it on us when he’s good and ready.”

            Raph groaned, dodging a patch of stickers and high weeds.  They had left the Battle Shell parked outside the tall fence that surrounded an old aviation yard, the airplane hangars sagging and dilapidated in the distance.  The open doors and high wide windows gave them a forlorn look, matching the mood Raph was in as he bemoaned ever getting out of this deserted area and back to the city lights.

            “Why didn’t we just drive in here?” Raph asked.

            “’Cause the only gate is people sized,” Mikey replied.  “We’d have to take down part of the fence and somebody might notice that.”

            “Why the hell would anybody care?” Raph griped.  “It ain’t like there’s anything in here ta steal.  Or anything that might interest the genius up there!” Raph added loudly, hoping Don would react.

            Donatello walked straight through the door of one of the hangars, acting as though Raph hadn’t just shouted at him.  Trying to get Don riled up when his mind was set on something was futile and Raph knew it; the yelling was more for his own benefit as a way to release some frustration.

            With a sigh of resignation, Raph brought up the rear of their little marching line, walking out of the moonlight and into darkness. 

            He saw his brother’s flashlights up ahead and dug out his own penlight quickly, shining it around the floor to see where he was going.  There wasn’t much in the hangar that he needed to worry about stepping on, but the place was festooned with spider webs.  Raph heard Mikey chuckle and told himself he’d pay his brother back for that later.

            It turned out that whatever Donatello was after wasn’t inside the hangar at all; it was behind it.  Shoving open a small door at the back of the building, Don let moonlight filter inside to lead his brothers out again.

            When Raph emerged, he found himself in a large fenced in yard.  Scattered around in piles were various pieces and parts of small airplanes.

            “Isn’t this great?” Don said enthusiastically, his brown eyes shining.

            “Airplanes, Donny?” Leo asked, glancing around in surprise.

            “Ultralights,” Don said, correcting him.  “Fixed-wing aircrafts.  They used to manufacture them here and they just dumped all of the parts when they went out of business.  Most of this stuff has never been used.”

            “Donatello . . . .” Leo began.

            “I’ll bet I could make two, maybe three working machines from these parts,” Don said, cutting his big brother off.  “They’re really easy to fly and can run on battery power, which makes them very quiet.  Because it has an engine, we wouldn’t be subject to the vagaries of updrafts, so they’d be a quick, safe way to search for Foot activity.”

            “I don’t know, Don.  Where are you going to store them?  How much space do you need to launch and land one?  There are a lot of things to be considered here,” Leo said.

            “Please Leo,” Don pleaded.  “I can make it work.”

            There was silence as Leo stared into his brother’s big, brown eyes.  Raph nudged Mikey with his elbow and leaned over when the youngest gave Raph his attention.

            “Ten ta one he says yes,” Raph hissed into Mikey’s ear.

            “No bet,” Mikey whispered back, knowing the power of Don’s beseeching gaze.

            “All right,” Leo said, exhaling in resignation.  “But when you’re ready to test one, let’s find a way to do it that doesn’t involve you trying to kill yourself.”

            Raph’s short bark of laughter drew a steely look from his oldest brother.  As Don darted from pile to pile, exclaiming excitedly, Raph and Mikey leaned back against the building and got comfortable.

            Suddenly Raph straightened and snapped his fingers.  Mikey looked over at him, a frown on his face.

            “What?” Mikey asked.

            “Now I know what that long walk reminded me of,” Raph said.

            “It reminded you of something?”  Mikey’s expression was quizzical.

            “Yeah,” Raph said, “a bunch of pack mules heading out to pick up a load.  Only this time, we’re the asses.”

            Mikey’s groan signified his agreement.


End file.
